Magic, werewolves, and cocktails oh my!
by Mordreds Girl
Summary: The year is 1927, and things in Beacon Hills are about to get interesting. . .
1. Fetch him Back

So uh, welcome to my 1920s whim. . .

))))))))

Lydia can here the whispers pick up as she enters Hunter's Moon. The eyes of everyone in the room follow her as she makes her way to the bar and she nearly glows under all the attention. She gives Derek the bartender a smile that's all teeth. "My usual please."

Derek rolls his eyes, but starts mixing her French 75. She takes a sip after he sets it in front of her, her eyes scanning the room.

"He's not here."

She looks back at Derek, "Hmm?"

"My uncle, Miss Martin. He's not here."

She gives a moue of displeasure. "what makes you think I'm here for him?" She gives her eyelashes a flutter. "I could be here for you."

Derek laughs, then goes to the other side of the bar to serve his next customer.

In annoyance she runs her fingers over the brass of the bar, sending sparks of magic flying. Derek has the right of it anyways, he's far too broody for her tastes.

Halfway though her drink she gives into temptation and pulls out her little mirror. "_Ostendere _Peter."

Her reflection ripples and disappears to show Peter Hale. It takes her a moment to spot him in the shadows but it's worth it. His dark suit tells her all she needs to know about why he wasn't there. Her eyes study his face covetously, licking her lips at the slight splatter of blood on his cheek.

A sudden bang gives her a start and pulls her away from the mirror. Derek is glaring at her, eyes electric blue. "You know the rules Miss Martin."

She pouts, but taps her mirror to 'clear' it. "Fine, fine. Spoilsport."

Giving the sigh of a night spoiled she quickly downs the rest of her drink, gets up, and heads back the way she came.

But there's a secret smile twitching at her lips as she leaves and whispers, "_for here I come in Our Lady's name/ all but for to fetch thee hame."_


	2. Blood Drops

_Four months earlier. . ._

As he waits he watches her servants bustle in and out. The first few lay down a tea service and food on the sideboard, instructing him to 'take whatever you'd like.' Out of politeness he give the food a sniff, but he's not all that hungry.

The next brings a good sized black lacquer box.

The final brings a map, which is so large that man has to lay it out on the floor.

When the servant leaves Peter hunches down to inspect it, surprised to see the most detailed map he's ever laid eyes on of Beacon Hills.

He soon hears a woman's footsteps and stands, facing the door when it opens.

She's dressed in thin gold silk, wild red curls tumbling over her shoulders, and her scent is ripe with foreign spices. There's an intriguing look in her eyes and he gives a little bow. "Miss Martin?"

She sits and arranges herself on a settee. "That would be me, and you're Mr. Wolf's messenger. . .man."

The once-over she gives has his wolf sitting up and taking notice. Though he doesn't really understand the need for a pseudonym, she knows exactly who he's working for.

"His brother actually."

She claps her hands together. "Ah, another Mr. Wolf!" Her smile is all teeth. "And an unattached one at that."

Peter's sure that there's something that should be frightening about that, but Peter's never been good at being scared.

She beckons him forward. "Let us begin shall we?"

As he walks towards her he grabs the small cloth bag from his pocket and sets it on the table next to the lacquer box. She holds out a delicate hand. "My payment."

It takes him a few moments to find his billfold, but when he pulls it out she looks insulted. "Don't be so crass Mr. Wolf, I'm not a whore. Your hand will do just fine."

He puts his billfold away and gives her a look. "I don't know about you Miss Martin, but I quite like my hands."

She laughs, and it sounds like silver bells. "Don't worry Mr Wolf, I'm not going to cut it off."

Gingerly he extends his hand over the table and watches her open the box and pull out a small gold needle. She turns his hand over palm side up and pricks the center of it. Before the wound can close her mouth is there sucking at it.

It's only two heartbeats later, but it feels like an eternity. When she finally pulls away her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are sparkling. "Mmmm Mr. Wolf, that's quite the kick you have there."

He's not very good at being embarrassed either and inclines his head. "Than you Miss Martin."

She smiles again, this time with less teeth as she cleans off the needle. She hands him another piece of cloth and he blinks at her confused. "For your hand."

He looks down at it to see a circle of lipstick around where the prick used to be. For a moment he's reminded of his gran's fairy ring stories. He takes the cloth and wipes his hand clean.

She grabs the little bag and upends it on the table, a bloodied swatch of fabric and a few golden hairs fall out. "This will takes a few minutes, you should sit down."

"I'll stand thank you."

Miss Martin shrugs and gets down to work. Almost as soon as she starts mixing herbs and other things Peter can tell he's watching at master at work. Even if the paste she's making stinks to high heaven. The smell gets even worse when she puts the hairs and fabric in and lights it all on fire. She wafts the smoke in her face and inhales, several times.

Finally it seems they'll be getting down to the important part. She picks up a thin silver chain with a pale pink rock at the end and walks over to the map. "Do you know her full name?" She asks as she toes off her slippers.

Peter gives a start at the gender, _guess she really is magic_. "Katherine Marie Argent."

She surprises him by not reacting to the name, she just steps onto the map and begins swinging the pendulum. "_Conperire_ Katherine Marie Argent."

To him her movements seem erratic and confused, she'll take a few steps in one direction only to backtrack and head the other way, swinging her pendulum all the while.

He can't see what part of town she's standing in when the pendulum freezes. She drops the chain and the stone hovers where it stopped. "If you could hand me a pen and paper please."

He grabs both of a side table and trying to avoid stepping on the map he hands them to her. She jots down something and then steps off the map. The stone hits the ground with a soft thud. She hands the paper to him, "and there she is."

The address is familiar to him, it's in the old district, near the original Whittemore house. "Thanks."

Peter turns to go, but she calls him back. "I should warn you she's protected by China."

He frowns, "What?"

She gives a small exasperated sigh. "They're small French guardian spirits, they like to inhabit bits of porcelain." She makes a circle with her thumb and forefinger. "They're small, but they're likes bees. One or two arn't a problem, but a whole swarm can kill you."

"And you're suggesting I should. . ."

Miss Martin brightens. "Get a protection charm from me. I'll give it to you for a kiss."

Peter wonders if his brother always has to deal with such strange bargains, but nods.

"I'll be right back." She disappears into a different room than the one that she entered from, and emerges about a minute later. She opens her hand with a flourish to reveal a small copper disk inscribed with various symbols.

He reaches to take it from her but she pulls her hand back. "Ah, ah. You have to pay first."

He knows that she's expecting a kiss on the lips, but her price never specified where. So with a mischievous grin he takes her free hand and raises it up, laying a brief, open mouthed kiss to her wrist.

For a moment she looks angry, and than her toothy smile returns. "Oh you are a clever man, Mr. Wolf. I'll have to keep my eye on you."

He returns it with a wolf-smile. "I look forward to it." With a quick movement he takes the charm from her hand and turns to leave.


End file.
